


A Blossoming Romance

by PickledTeeth



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: :), Arthur being completely aware of his feelings, Awkwardness, Drinking, Everyone's happy, First Kiss, Fishing, Flower Crowns, Flowers, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Horseback Riding, Hunting, Kieran is biggest dumbass dont @ me, M/M, No Period Typical Homophobia, Party like its 1899, Picnics, Smoking, Stand-alone, Sugar sweet almost, Sweet Fluff, amiright, developing feelings, fuck that shit, god fORBID THE HAIR BRAIDING, hand holding, may be ooc, sugary sweet fluff, the usual 'dates', tried to write them in character, written for my friend, yeehaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2019-10-23 11:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17682881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PickledTeeth/pseuds/PickledTeeth
Summary: Just your average everyday romantic story/drabbles about the two biggest fucking idiots in the world.





	1. Doubts

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my friend who's read every single chapter of Bounty Hunters, who told me to believe in myself, and that I was going to hell for writing the 'cursed torture scene' this is for you babe.  
> You know who you are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My cat just threw up send help please 
> 
> These are gonna be shorter chapters, and I promise there isn't gonna be any heartache. 
> 
> ...yet.

Kieran had no idea what to expect for a first date with Arthur Morgan, **_THE_** fucking Arthur Morgan, one of the most dangerous and wanted criminals in the state.  He expected maybe a fishing trip for a few hours, a hunting expedition, hell, even a _money job_  would have made sense.  Just so they could provide for the gang y'know, typical Arthur.  _Gang always comes first_ Arthur always said. 

Kieran was not expecting this though.

The sheer level of effort that was put into a simple picnic was astounding. A small grassy hill overlooking Flat Iron Lake, trees outlining the cove with branches waving in the slight breeze, the sandy beach bubbling with small waves, it looked like a dream.  The sky was blue with clouds forming in the distance, a sign a storm was probably gonna come later that evening. The blanket and basket itself were stored under a large oak tree that provided ample shade from the hot summer sun.  

It looked so peaceful. 

 _Romantic_ even.  Kieran snorted a laugh as he sat down on the checkered blanket, right beside the basket filled to the brim with food and refreshments. 

Never in a million years did he think Arthur Morgan was romantic.  Not even in the slightest way.  No way did he think of Arthur as the kind to take his date out to a romantic candlelit dinner, complete with stargazing with a full moon to sleep under.  Arthur Morgan did not look like the kind of man to do that. Kieran suspected he might take his date out to a gunfight or a bank robbery.  That sounded like something he would do.

But what did Kieran know?

Kieran sighed and shifted, the coolness of the grass seeping past the cotton sewn blanket and into his clothes.

He'd been with the gang only for a couple of months. Kieran had immediately been shoved with almost all the chores, mostly chores involving the horses; brushing them, feeding them, cleaning their feet, checking for ticks, all that good stuff.  He didn't mind, he grew up around horses, lived around them for most of his life.  He preferred to stay around them, mostly because they were easier to deal with than people.  So, when he was off that accursed tree, he stayed with the herd, distanced himself from the gang so they wouldn't immediately get sick of him and kill him.  He _did not_ need that.  He approached them only to get food and that was it, sometimes venturing in to try and talk to some of them and see where they were at with him.

When they moved to Clemens Point is when he actually got brave.  Nobody came over to scorn him, he got new clothes from Mary-Beth (she told him his old clothes were really stinky and she got him new ones) and found a fishing pole from one of the storage chests.  Fishing was something other than horses he was good at. Kieran fished by the shore, venturing a little further away from camp every day, and donated what he caught to Pearson.

That's when he started getting a little bit of recognition. 

And that's when he'd invited Arthur to go fishing with him.  Surprisingly Arthur had said yes to him.  Kieran had no idea why, to be honest.  Arthur hated him, scorned him the first few weeks he was untied from the tree.  When they moved camp, his attitude completely changed.  Kind of. 

They talked, they fished, they saw a naked man swimming around.  Kieran did not want to eat the fish in that water.  They came back with a pretty good haul, Arthur clapped him on the back and said ' _That was fun. Would like to do it again sometime Kieran_.'

He. Used. His.  Real.  Name.

That's when the butterflies raged on in his stomach, that's when his brain short wired and refused to cooperate with him, and he had found himself missing Arthur's touch when he withdrew his hand to go give the fish to Pearson.  He had stayed behind, trying to calm his beating heart.

He was expecting a moment of fear maybe when Arthur touched him, the moment of _oh god he's lining up a punch to the face_. But no. Instead, he'd felt like a giddy schoolgirl with her crush. And that was something entirely unexpected.  They'd parted ways with smiles on their faces, and Arthur was very serious about fishing again because two days later Arthur asked if he wanted to go catch that Bluegill. 

Now he was here, a few fishing trips later, and sitting on a picnic blanket, probably borrowed from one of the girls, and waiting for Arthur to arrive from whatever the hell he was doing.  He'd told Kieran to meet him there for fishing, and yet when Kieran arrived, Arthur was nowhere to be found.  The only thing he saw was a lone picnic basket sitting under a tree.  With fishing pole in hand, he had sat down to wait for Arthur to come. 

That was five minutes ago and Arthur still hadn't shown up.  He didn't know if the outlaw was notoriously punctual, didn't know if he was always fashionably late. Or he had set Kieran up and was laughing about how he tricked the O'Driscoll. 

 _Wouldn't be that hard_ , Kieran thought, picking absentmindedly at the grass peeking through the blanket.  He knew he had feelings for the cowboy; he had them for a long time before he truly acknowledged it.  Kieran didn't know why he was feeling this.  Arthur didn't exactly make a great first impression when they met.  Kieran thought Arthur despised him, hated him, wanted nothing to do with him.  Arthur proved him wrong every time he walked by with a hello, or went out of his way to talk to Kieran.  It was nice. 

Even though he knew Arthur a little better now, even though Arthur made his feelings pretty clear when he invited Kieran out for fishing and a picnic, the tiny voice in the back of his head hissed at him, things like _you're no good_ and _this'll go horribly wrong, you'll mess this up, you're good at messing things up_.

"'Ey Kieran."

Kieran snapped from his thoughts and looked up, realizing he'd been staring blankly at the checkered blanket.  Arthur stood in front of him, hands resting on his belt buckle, a small, almost sheepish, smile on his face. 

"Sorry I'm late. Horse was actin' up." Arthur rubbed the back of his head and shrugged in a sort of apology.  Behind Arthur, his horse waited next to Branwen, heads dipping to nip playfully at each other. 

When Kieran looked back to Arthur, he was assembling his fishing rod. Kieran scrambled up, grabbing his, and they both walked side-by-side to the water's edge. Kieran felt so tiny next to the mountain of a man, wondering how in the hell he'd gone from enemy to love interest.

How the fuck did he end up with Arthur Morgan. 

Arthur stopped at the shoreline, obviously not noticing Kieran's deep thinking. 

It was very peaceful, beautiful even. 

The water rippled with soft waves, lapping the shoreline, frothing it white before disappearing again. Ducks quacked as they flew into the air when Arthur casted out his line, the lure bobbing down into the water seconds later. 

Kieran stood there, hands gripping the fishing pole so hard his knuckles turned white. Confusion ate him up. 

Why would Arthur choose him? He always thought Arthur was into women, or at least he overheard from the other gang members at the fire. At first, he thought Arthur was just messing with him when he asked Kieran to fish again. The look on his face was serious, so, Kieran went. 

"You good Kieran?" Arthur's voice broke Kieran's train of thought for the second time that day, and he startled, almost dropping his fishing pole. 

"Y-yeah I'm fine." Kieran said. God that was embarrassing. Arthur didn't look like he believed Kieran, and he sighed in defeat. 

"Why me?" Kieran didn't mean to say it so quietly, but he was nervous and anxious for the answer. 

"...What?" 

Kieran let his fishing pole drop into the sand and he plopped down, feeling very small.  Arthur began reeling in his line, worried glances down towards Kieran. 

"Why? Why me? I ain't exactly the greatest of folks." 

Arthur knelt beside him after disassembling his rod. 

"Well...shit I dunno." Arthur admitted, scratching his chin. Kieran watched him sit down fully in the sand, sighing, "Maybe cuz yer a caring person. Maybe cuz yer different from other folks. You ain't exactly normal."

He said it with a chuckle in his voice.  

Kieran didn't know how to take that. He scoffed. 

"Thanks Arthur." 

"I'm serious Kieran. I've seen the way you care 'bout things. Especially them horses." Arthur squeezed Kieran's shoulder gently, "Yer a good person. It's hard to come by folks like that nowadays." 

Kieran looked to Arthur, scrutinizingly. His eyes were full of affection. Kieran didn't see anything that could indicate he was lying. 

His body relaxed along with his face, mind coming to the conclusion that Arthur actually did like him, and wasn't just using him until he was bored. 

It felt nice to be appreciated, to be loved.  His chest tightened. 

"Thank you Arthur." He whispered. Arthur grinned, leaning in, and Kieran's body froze. 

When those lips pressed against his cheek, Arthur's beard scratching his skin, he relaxed. Kieran's eyes widened, and he was sure he was blushing like a girl. Arthur pulled back after a second, warmth lingering on his cheek where Arthur's lips had been a second ago. 

"No problem darling." 


	2. Braids and Smooches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, for one, suck ass at braiding my own hair. It's always a tangled mess by the time I'm done.

"Who's a good boy?" 

Cain's big dopey brown eyes seemed to twinkle at Arthur's words and he licked his chops, slobbering everywhere all over Arthur's arm.  He laughed and wiped it off with his other sleeve.

"Sucha good boy!" He patted Cain's head, and the dog woofed happily.  Kieran watched in amusement. 

It was funny how soft Arthur was towards animals, and how hard he was towards other people.  Kieran remembered he was the same way with the horses, rather spending time with them then fellow human beings.  Absentmindedly, Kieran ran his fingers through Arthur's seemingly clean hair, an intimate yet harmless gesture.   

Arthur's hair was tangled and full of dirt and knots and leaves...Christ was that a twig? Kieran picked through his locks, grimacing at the amount of dust blooming off it.  He untangled the small twig in Arthur's hair and threw it to the side, still wondering how he even managed to get it stuck in his hair in the first place. 

Arthur sat in front of him, leaning back into his lap so Arthur's head laid on Kieran's lap.  They sat around the scout campfire, watching the evening sun sink slowly down under the horizon, the sky a marvelous display of pinks and purples and blues. The dying sunlight reflected off the lake like a mirror, the air crisp and cool with the beginnings of the night.   _Beautiful_ , Arthur had said, _just like you_. 

Cain laid next to Arthur, broad grey muzzle on Arthur's leg, eyes closed as Arthur rubbed his ears.  The dog sighed in content, tail wagging slightly at the affection.  Nobody noticed they were there, nor did they come over to talk to either of them.  Even Swanson managed to keep his drunken rambles to the other gang members.  Jack had wandered over earlier, playing with Cain before Abigail called him back for dinner. 

Now it was just Kieran and Arthur, his new apparent lover.  Kieran knew everyone at camp had an idea of what was going on between them.  He thought he'd be only bullied more, but to his surprise, everyone started treating him better. 

He remembered when Bill accidently ran into him and caused him to drop a freshly scrubbed saddle.  Bill had profusely apologized and even offered to clean the saddle back up for him.

 _Probably because they're worried about pissing Arthur off_ , Kieran thought, tugging a knot free and smoothing it down. Micah was the only one still treating him poorly, but he didn't mind.  He barely saw the man anyway.   

He took a piece of his hair and separated it from the others, beginning to make a simple Celtic braid.  His mother taught him at a young age how to do it, considering he was only child.  She channelled all her feminine teachings into him, and for that he was thankful.  He could sew his own clothes, braid his own hair, cook, clean, everything considered to be a woman's job.  After Kieran helped around the house with his mother, he soon discovered it was back-breaking work; scrubbing the floors till they shined, cleaning the windows till they sparkled.  Kieran thought it to be worse than the jobs his father did outside. 

Kieran took another section and crossed it over, tightening it so it wouldn't come undone as soon as Arthur moved. Arthur, seemingly noticed Kieran touching his hair, perked up. 

"What're you doin back there?" Arthur spoke, stretching his arms.  Cain perked up at the movement, and he relaxed with a sigh when Arthur put his hand back on the dog's shoulders. 

Kieran shrugged slightly, and then realized Arthur couldn't see him in his current position.

"Just braidin if that's okay." He crossed another section over, finding a leaf hidden in his locks.  He picked it out, not very surprised anymore.  Hell, the man had a twig in his hair and never noticed.  Who knows how long it was just sitting there. 

"You know how to braid?" Kieran wasn't expecting such a genuine question without any laughter backing it up.  His eyes widened and he struggled to find words. 

"Yeah...Ma taught me. I was only child right." Kieran said sadly, and he tightened the braid, tying it off with a piece of twine laying near them.  It wouldn't stay, but it was the thought that counted.  Arthur already knew about the unfortunate fate of his parents, so he didn't question Kieran further. 

Arthur raised his other hand to touch it, fingers caressing over the ridges and bumps the braid made.  He didn't ruin it with his clumsy fingers, and Kieran was pleasantly surprised, watching as Arthur smiled. 

"This is...wow. Thank you Kiery."

_Kiery_

Kieran's brain stalled, and he stiffened, struggling to process what Arthur had just said. Arthur said it as nonchalantly as if he'd been talking in regular conversation.  Maybe that was what shocked him the most, the way the word _Kiery_ rolled off his tongue without a problem, and he never stumbled to catch what he said. 

"Y-you're welcome." Kieran stammered, and that's when he realised how hard he was blushing, how hot his face felt.  He couldn't necessarily blame it on the fire nor the sun, the fire was just a few embers sparking every now and then. The sun was gone, and the night sky was a inky blanket stretched across their heads, stars twinkling and winking down at them.  The moon was full, a beautiful contrast against the sky. Arthur yawned, and Cain did too, Kieran fighting off his own. 

"Should be headin to bed. Gotta get up early tomorrow." Arthur slurred, but he made no move to get up. Kieran didn't either. 

"We could, or...we could stay here." Kieran prompted. 

Everyone in the camp had gone to bed with the occasional rambling from Uncle or Swanson as they stumbled around.  Plus, Kieran didn't mind staying awake a little longer, though he was supposed to go hunting with Arthur tomorrow for deer.  And they didn't necessarily have to get up in the early morning.  Sleeping-in was a rare luxury Kieran barely indulged in, and he wouldn't mind staying with Arthur for as long as possible.   

Arthur hummed his agreement and rolled over, disturbing Cain.  The dog sniffed and got up, eyes twinkling with irritation, and he trotted off towards a sleeping Jack.  Kieran's gaze was filled with Arthur's face, his eyes soft and loving.  Their lips met, and that's when sparks flew in Kieran's head, much like the fireworks he used to watch with his parents.  He wasn't a stranger to kissing.  He was just unprepared for Arthur to kiss him so soon, having been only on a few 'dates'.

They pulled away, and Kieran must've looked dazed because Arthur laughed, airy and loving. 

"You good?" He asked teasingly, pecking him on the cheek and Kieran found himself at a loss for words yet again that night.  He could only nod and wrap his arms around Arthur's form.  He pulled him close until they were flush against each other. Arthur smelled like campfire, his shirt soft under Kieran's fingers as he rested his hand on Arthur's back.   Arthur wrapped his arms around Kieran's back and squeezed; a hug, Kieran realized. 

Within moments, with the fire popping its last flames and the night creatures starting up their tune, Arthur's eyes shut and he was snoring softly away. 

Yep.  He didn't mind staying like that the entire night.   


	3. Nighttime Woes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are sorta gonna be published when I think of em’
> 
> I also have a Tumblr now, it’s called PickledTeeth! If you want you can pop over there and ask questions about fics or headcannons or stuff you want me to write about! I really don’t mind conversation  
> Also if you just wanna talk rdr 2 or anything else, don't be afraid to message me ! I love meeting new people :)
> 
>  
> 
> p.s. I'll probably just shitpost

The cool night breeze washed over the small canvas tent, rattling the thin material, making the wooden stake holding it up sway ever so slightly in retaliation. Bushes scraped against the material, threatening to pierce through and rip it open.

Kieran curled up tighter in an effort to stay warm, to get rid of the chill settling on his bones, to get rid of the goosebumps rising on his skin. 

Arthur had been kind enough to lend Kieran his old tent to sleep in, something to shield him against both hot and cold, sun or rain. 

“I ain’t usin’ it. ‘Sides, no use having our horse expert sleeping against a rock, now would it?” Arthur had said, an answer to Kieran’s confused look, complete with raised eyebrows and pinched lips. Arthur even helped him set it up on the far side of camp where no one would bother to berate him.  Nobody would bother to walk that _far._  

Kieran sighed, the tent he was in providing little insulation from the chilly, biting air, listening to the soft snores from his camp buddies, the subtle scrapes of Cain's paws as he wandered around. Kieran shook his head, rubbed his eyes with hands formed into fists to get rid of bleariness, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Stretched as much as he could in the little, cramped space he had been gifted. It helped just a little bit, sore muscles stretching and shaking, releasing a tenseness that was not there that morning. 

Exhaustion took hold of him, but sleep, it seemed, was a luxury his body would not grant him. 

It was, of course, nighttime. A time where everyone was quiet, either sleeping or tiptoeing around to keep from waking up a cranky companion. 

The only person that wasn’t tip-toeing and being careful was John, who just so happened to be on night patrol. He grumbled incoherent things as he walked the perimeter, a smell of smoke trailing after him. The man moved quite noisily over bush and stomped on dead leaves, though it was barely heard loud through the thick of sounds coming from nighttime critters; crickets chirping, frogs croaking from the nearby swamp, owls hooting, leavings rustling against each other as a slight breeze rolled through... 

Shady Belle, otherwise, was silent. The old mansion itself let loose a creaky sigh as it sagged against its foundations, wind whistling through the small cracks in the walls, the chilly breeze tapping old pieces of risen steel against the roof it belonged too.

Kieran, other than John who noisily made his rounds through the forest, seemed to be the only one awake.  The only one tossing and turning in his bedroll, the only one with a buzzing mind filled with loud thoughts.  Those thoughts had a real nasty habit of branching out to a plaguing worrying. Worry seemed to be the main emotion he felt nowadays, thoughts poking and prodding with fear of a new day just mere hours away. 

When the new day would come, he'd get himself out of his bearskin bedroll to clean tables and brush horses and feed chickens. He would do the morning chores so the only one that really had to rise would be Miss Grimshaw. She got up only for a smoke, with nicotine staining her fingers a light brown, chapped lips puffing out clouds of wispy smoke.  After that, she'd flick the cigar away and rouse people up to get working.

But, that was hours away.  And Kieran didn't think he'd have the energy to haul hay at dawn with how his head felt like concrete, his limbs like jelly. 

Kieran turned to his side again, the meat of his bicep being used as a makeshift pillow, back losing warmth and giving him a whole other aspect of cold.  His body sagged, though his mind was wide awake, a kind of awake that kept Kieran's eyes open, that kept his body from much needed sleep. 

It had been an extremely exhausting day; the horses needed to be fed, most re-shoed, needed to be brushed, checked for ticks...all of _that_ coupled with the heat had him feeling even more fatigued.  Sunburns plastered on skin ached in pain at the contact of his clothes, new cuts from sharp nails, slightly crusted with blood, littered his hands. 

All he wanted in the world right at that moment, was sleep. Something to shut his mind off long enough to actually get rest.

 _Jack's gone because of you,_ An oily voice whispered raggedly right in his ear.  

 _…_ It was his fault technically.  The Braithwaite's wanted business deals, something to get them rich again, get them a foothold just above the Grays.  They were silver-tongued in their ways of speaking, reminding him a little of Dutch when he conversed with them. He'd been in Rhodes, just riding lazily through, looking for any slightest lead that could help the gang. That could help his reputation amongst them.

They cornered him. An alleyway between the Gunsmith's shop and another old wooden building, and they spoke to him about a possible 'treasure' hidden at the Grays mansion, how _devastating_ it would be for the Grays if they ever lost it. Kieran had been ecstatic. 

Finally, _finally_ something to sway the Van Der Linde's thinking of him. 

He was entirely wrong.  They must've followed him back to camp, snatched up a Jack playing in the forest.  He had been about to approach Dutch with this new lead hanging on the tip of his tongue when Abigail started calling frantically for Jack, hands cupped around mouth, eyes wide with panic. His entire stomach had dropped. 

The little boy didn't answer. There was no small answering call, there was no small boy pounding out of the forest to seek his mother.  None of that. 

After Arthur came back with sorrowful news of Sean's death, and after Agent Milton had stormed into camp (a stupid decision really, two men waltzing into a camp full of armed and angry people), they had moved to a new place called Shady Belle.  A rather run-down looking place, but it was the first shelter anyone had actually seen.

Old, practically falling apart with rats squealing just outside the front door...nearly everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Finally." Molly had said quietly with tired eyes gazing at the wooden mansion.   

Now, laying down on the outskirts of Shady Belle in his little tent a few days later, Kieran couldn’t sleep. 

Kieran shut his eyes, rolled to his stomach, tried anything to shut his mind up. His skin prickled at the cool night air, hairs standing on end, feet freezing cold, fingers even more so. 

Notorious for Shady Belle; hot as hell during the day, a type of hot that left clothes sticking to skin with sweat as glue, and a type of cold at night that could freeze eyeballs. Nearing winter, one could expect the weather to slightly turn sour. 

A small gust of wind carried through camp, rattling tent canvas', making Cain woof slightly at the sudden change in temperature. There was a few grumbles, but when the wind died down, so did the talking.  Kieran, in retaliation to the cold wind, hissed and curled into a ball, hoping to get warm. 

The key word being _hoping_. 

Something brushed against the tent canvas, so subtly, so quietly, it barely made a scrape. He didn't think anything of it; though it did have his heart racing just a little bit. 

_It's just John,_

But the twig snap that followed after had Kieran’s heart racing with adrenaline, that single thought squashed down with a certainty that this _wasn't_ _John._

He shot up, very _very_ awake, heart pounding and blood roaring in his ears that left him nearly deaf. He strained, listening carefully.  A subtle brush against leaves, twigs cracking just slightly under pressure, a sniffle. 

Someone was out there. 

Boots crushed fallen leaves, spurs clicking with each step, heavy slow footprints as though someone was _trying_ _but failing_ to keep quiet. 

Someone was _definitely_ out there. 

Kieran thought for a moment that someone was stalking camp. After all, he was camped at the outskirts of Shady Belle, just hugging the tree line.  His hand went to his gun, resting on the handle, arm braced to whip it out and shoot the ever-living hell out of whoever was stalking his tent. They stopped at his tent entrance, and slowly, ever so slowly, opened the flaps. 

The moonlight casted a large shadow over the person moving the tent flaps up and out of the way. Undistinguishable to see who it was, if it were friendly or enemy. With how they were carrying themselves, it didn't seem like they were an enemy. 

Kieran regretted his decision to not tie up the cord to keep the flaps together.  He thought for a moment to bring out his gun and shoot the intruder; though it dawned on him that if this truly was someone looking to do harm, why would they try to kill him? There were much bigger fish in the camp just metres away. 

It was a dark figure, hunched over, the glint of a spur catching Kieran’s eye. They tied the cord tight shut and shuffled closer to him on hands and knees. From what Kieran could see, they didn’t have a knife or weapon ready to kill.  Instead, it was more of a tired amble, like a bear just woken up from its hibernation, stumbling and breathe heavy. 

“Oh, you’re awake.” A familiar voice rumbled like thunder across dry plains, and immediately all fear fled his body, put his mind at ease. Kieran sagged back against his elbows in relief, the bedroll underneath keeping them cushioned and comfortable. 

Arthur. 

It was Arthur. 

Safety followed the man, safety that made Kieran fall back down to the mat and sigh in a sort of solace. He brought a hand to his face, heart slowly calming down from its mile long marathon. Tired, sore eyes started to close. 

“Have been for awhile.” 

He scooted over to let Arthur beside him, thinking the man was just going to flop down and go to sleep. He was glad the man decided to come down that night.  A sort of anchor to hold onto, something to distract him from his traitorous thoughts.

After Jack had been taken, and after they moved to Shady Belle, Arthur and John worked their asses off to find where this Angelo Bronte was.  Neither Kieran nor Arthur saw much of each other, nevertheless had time to talk about what transpired. 

When they did, it was the dock sitting at the swamp, with lake flies buzzing and frogs croaking in the algae filled water.  It was nothing compared to the crystal clear water of Flat Iron Lake. 

_"You probably think it's my fault just like the rest of 'em, huh?" Kieran had asked with a breathy sigh, throwing a stray stone just laying on the slightly rotted dock wood.  It disappeared under the water after three skips, a heavy plunk resounding from it.  Arthur had shaken his head, taking a seat by Kieran with his legs dangling over the edge, tip of his boots just grazing the murky water. Pretty bold.  Kieran had kept thinking an alligator would mistake Arthur's boot for an easy meal._

_"No. No, it ain't your fault. It's the Braithwaites fault if anything, but not yours."_

_"How you so sure?"_

_"Because I think I know you pretty well by now."_

That conversation helped soothe his thoughts, but only for a couple days.  It started back up again when he saw Abigail wandering around Shady Belle with a lost look on her face, and a miserable gait to her walk.  He gave his condolences right after, told her that he would gladly trade his life for Jack's, how he'd walk through hellfire to get her son back.  She'd given him a glare, bloodshot eyes squinting at him before it softened just a tad.  She didn't speak. Kieran had taken that as his cue to leave.

Arthur didn't lay down beside him like Kieran was thinking, rather, laid down on _top_ of Kieran's body. Heavy, warm, large enough to cover his entire lower half, he was engulfed in warmth and a sense of comfort.  Kieran grunted in surprise and brought his arms around Arthur's bulk in retaliation, cold palms resting on the wide expanse of Arthur's back. 

"Me too." Arthur mumbles, voice thick with exhaustion, gravelly and low.  He rests his head against Kieran's chest, ear pressed against the thin clothing covering his body, and Arthur sighed happily through his nose. He smelt of wood and old cigars, a touch of coffee hidden underneath, and his hair was soft against Kieran’s rough fingers as he carded them through. 

Twigs, pieces of hay, and dust that made him wrinkle his nose flew off at the slightest touch.   

“Rough day?” Kieran asked in a low voice. 

“The usual.” Arthur burrowed deeper into Kieran’s chest. The warmth radiating off the man had Kieran’s brain on Cloud Nine, exhaustion finally breaking way to a sort of sleepy state. Now that Arthur was there all thoughts of Braithwaite's, and Jack, and who's fault it was...it all flew away, leaving a mindless buzz in its wake.  His thoughts were quiet for the first time since Jack was kidnapped. 

“You?” 

“The usual.” Kieran answered back truthfully because honestly there wasn’t any point in hiding it.

“Oh?” Arthur’s voice was dangerously low, and he sounded angry, frustrated. Kieran nodded, eyes drooping on their own accord, listening to Arthur’s soft breathing, his slow heartbeat. He was safe and happy and warm and finally on the edge of falling into blissful sleep...until Arthur pulled away. He looked Kieran in the eye, the iris reflecting in what little moonlight streamed through his tent. 

Kieran frowned at him, grabbed the silk neckerchief hanging loosely from Arthur’s neck, trying to drag him back down slowly. Cold flooded to where Arthur was before, uncomfortable, a kind of cold that had skin prickling uncomfortably with goosebumps, had hair standing on edge.

Arthur didn’t budge. 

“They pickin on you again?” Arthur pried. Kieran was really too tired to talk at the moment, so he shook his head slowly. Micah and Bill had let off on him after they'd moved to Shady Belle.  They were more worried about where the camp's future was heading, not some lowly stable boy who smelt of horses and always had a carrot in his pocket.  Kieran let go of Arthur's neckwear.

"That obvious?" Kieran joked dryly, a joke that Arthur did not laugh at. Instead, Arthur frowned, "It ain't that."

"You worryin about Jack?"

Kieran didn't answer right away.  He looked to the side of the small tent they were currently sharing, picking at a sore hangnail he'd acquired earlier in the day. 

"It ain't your fault, y'know." Arthur tried gently, "All of us kinda trusted 'em before this ever happened. Stupid thing to do, looking back, but what's done is done, Kieran."

"I should've known." Kieran stressed the sentence, "Should've known they were only talkin' to me to get somethin' out of it. Thinkin' they was tellin' the truth on that _treasure_ the Grey's had..."  

Kieran scoffed, "Stupid. Probably led that Agent Milton back to camp without realizing."

"Naw…I'll take the blame on that." Arthur chuckled. He laid back down against Kieran's chest, "Or I'll hand it off to Bill, just to make you feel better."

Kieran could imagine the sputtering giant of a man when accused of leading the Pinkertons back to camp.  Would probably grumble with a reddening face, with a murderous glare in his eyes that never really accounted for anything.  

"Thanks for the attempt at humour." Kieran grumbled, though he did cough out a little bit of a chuckle as he patted Arthur's head. Ran his fingers through Arthur's hair, picked out any knots or tangles or any stray stick he found.  Kieran went silent, just listening to the sound of Arthur breathing, and the sound of the horses snorting, the sound of the leaves shaking, Cain padding around gently... 

"I can't stress enough, Kieran." Arthur began, shattering the silence, arms coming around to wrap around Kieran. He rolled to the side, dragging Kieran along with him so they were face-to-face, in each other's arms. Kieran looked into Arthur's soft, warm eyes,  "I know you better than all of 'em. I know it ain't yer fault Jack was taken. You didn't exactly know not to trust those Braithwaite's."

Arthur snorted, a grin stretching across his face.

"Think even Hosea trusted that Catherine a little."  Arthur squeezed Kieran closer, "In reality, it was all our fault."

Kieran stewed on it for a moment.  What Arthur was saying made sense...in a way.  That single sentence shut up Kieran's thoughts, practically shattered them, about how it was his fault Jack was kidnapped, how he should've known better, how he was so so _stupid._

There wasn't any of that anymore. 

"Thanks Arthur." Kieran whispered, voice gravelly with sleep.  Arthur kissed the top of his head softly, though he doesn't speak. Maybe for fear of waking up Kieran's worries again, maybe for fear of setting Kieran into a sense of unease. 

Kieran's glad he doesn't speak; he doesn't think he has the energy for it anymore, doesn't have the energy to keep his eyes open anymore. Arthur's presence added with the warmth and safety the man gave him...Kieran wondered how he stayed awake this long.   

Finally, _finally_ , his mind was quiet as he slept against Arthur's solid form, slept soundlessly without any nightmares or troubles to wake him up.  

Peaceful, even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love to sprinkle a little bit of angst in an otherwise happy story :)


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